


My Heart Heals Faster In Your Hands

by intersstellar



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Mentioned Shadow Weaver | Light Spinner (She-Ra), Past Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Sickfic, Sleepy Cuddles, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:28:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27728777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intersstellar/pseuds/intersstellar
Summary: On a short mission out of Bright Moon, Catra gets hurt and poisoned. Like a good Horde soldier, she doesn't tell Adora.(Rated Teen for blood, injury, and language)
Relationships: Adora & Bow & Glimmer (She-Ra), Adora & Catra (She-Ra), Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 306
Collections: She-Ra





	My Heart Heals Faster In Your Hands

**Author's Note:**

> There’s a part in S1E10 where Glimmer asks, “What do you do when you have a cold?” and Adora immediately says “Remain out of sight”. I wanted to explore that, Catra’s not had the chance to undo any of her Horde baggage.

The path narrowed, and Catra batted away plants as she scrambled to get away from the beast. 

It had been Bow’s idea, to check up on the villages on the edges of Bright Moon. They had lost contact months ago during the invasion, and with magic restored, they had decided to make sure the village wasn’t overrun. The magic made the forest beautiful. It was teeming with life, full of glowing plants and fluorescent critters. With that life, however, came the monsters. 

The biggest, most entrancing beast had attacked their ship almost the moment they landed. The trees were thick and dark, and by the time they noticed it, it was already on them. They had all frozen for a moment, enthralled by the colour of its seven eyes, its glistening scales, the glow of power that thrummed around it. She could have looked at it forever, really, if it hadn’t opened it’s slimy, giant maw and let out a roar that shook Catra’s soul. That had kicked them into action—Adora brought out She-Ra, Bow notched an arrow, and Catra ran for her life. 

She crashed through the brush, tripping over roots and vines. Light flashed behind her, but she didn’t look back until its roaring got distant. She slowed, chest heaving, listening for any sign of the others. 

She was eerily alone here. Daylight streamed in hazy patches from the thick canopy above, but the plants were what really lit up the forest. Thousands of blue flowers covered the floor, casting the trees in blue light. When the sun hit their leaves, their veins pulsed and glowed. Their pollen floated thick in the air, and soon Catra’s nose was running. 

She sniffed, rubbing her eyes and walking back along the path. Aside from the buzz of the bugs in the trees, the forest had gone quiet. The dusty earth and leaves had settled, making it hard to make out any sort of trail. Roots bulged under the carpet of fallen foliage, and vines hung overhead. She swerved to avoid a spiderweb as wide as her face. 

She only heard the trap when it was too late. 

A spring clicked, a sound so soft she almost didn’t hear it. An arrow shot up from the ground and imbedded itself in a thick, viny branch above her. She was frozen in place, her body still, her breath hitched in her throat. For a second, nothing happened. 

Then pain exploded across her side. She hissed and looked down. The weapon had opened a gash the length of her finger, leaving behind a glittering green paste that mixed with the blood already pooling. Her ears perked at some rustling nearby, and Adora’s voice called out, “Catra? Is that you?” 

Panic seized her mind. She held the wound shut and reached to grab the arrow, blood dripping through her fingers onto the carpet of grass on the floor. Her eyes blurred with tears at the stretch. It was too high. She ground her teeth and jumped for it. 

Her hand grasped its wooden shaft and she yanked it on her way down, forcing breath into her lungs as she landed. 

The rustling came closer, and she ran, though she was sure she wasn’t quiet. She spotted a thick cropping of bushes up ahead and hid in them, listening to Adora’s heavy footsteps come, and then pass. 

She sighed in relief. She looked down at her side and tried to pinch the cut closed, hoping the pressure would staunch the steady leak of blood. It throbbed and stung with every breath, but soon it dried. 

Catra stood on shaky legs. She would need to bind it, or stitch it, or do something to keep it from opening again. And she probably couldn’t do it alone. Her chest tightened again. There was something so visceral to the thought of letting anyone see her like this. 

A wave of dizziness hit her. She grabbed her head and looked down at the arrow in her hand, at the sheen coating it. Poison. 

Adora called her name from the trees. Fear poured through her again and Catra scrambled to wipe the blood off her torso. How would she ever explain this? She scooped dirt from the ground and rubbed it on her arms, her hands, her feet, trying to disguise the bloodstains on her clothes. She stood just as Adora appeared through the path. Catra crossed her arms to cover the cut from view. 

"Catra!” She looked relieved. Catra held her gaze, praying she wouldn’t look down. “It’s gone,” Adora said, a little breathless. “We can leave now.” She frowned, noticing the mud staining Catra’s clothes. “What happened?” 

“I fell,” she said, harshly enough it sounded true. Adora blanched at her tone. 

The forest was so quiet, she could hear Adora’s small huff of breath as she said, “Oh. Are you okay?” 

“Fine,” Catra lied, still hoping she wouldn’t see the gash in her clothes. Her body trembled like a leaf. Her mind scrambled for an excuse, an explanation, until, carefully, she said, “I’m just a little cold.” 

Adora blinked. “Here, take my coat.” 

It took all her strength not to show relief on her face. Adora pulled her red jacket off and wrapped it gently around her, a grin growing on her face at the blush creeping into Catra’s cheeks. It was warm, and the sweet smell of Adora was almost enough to distract her from the searing pain in her side—which would be hidden, now. 

Adora led her out down the path she’d come from. She probably didn’t notice it, but she kept looking back at Catra, and every time she did her grin split a little wider. Catra’s heart ached a little, to match the burning in her ribs. 

Bow and Entrapta were waiting on the path. Bow’s head was ducked over his fancy tracker device, while Entrapta reached over and typed on it. She chattered away at him, and he nodded, squinting harder at the screen. Curly hair was starting to grow on his chin, and it was making him look older. When he looked up and spotted them, his gaze went immediately to Adora’s jacket on Catra’s shoulders, and his eyes lit up. She sent him a _don’t say it_ look. 

“Glad that’s over,” he said. Adora smiled. 

He briefed Adora on how they were going to get back to Bright Moon. The ship was intact, he said, as they boarded. The sounds of their conversation dulled in Catra’s mind. 

Adora hadn’t noticed her trembling arms, shaking from pain and adrenaline. She’d never know. 

Catra couldn’t stop the memories from flooding her senses—of Shadow Weaver’s cold touch, her whispered words. She would pull Catra aside, take her to her eerie chamber room. _You should never have let this happen_ , she’d say. 

Shame burned hot on her cheeks. _All you ever do is make trouble_ , Shadow Weaver scolded. _All you are is a nuisance. You have made it hard for me to take care of you. Look how you hurt Adora by not being there for her?_ She ripped the bandage roughly. _Do not ever let this happen again._

She scrambled out of Shadow Weaver’s chamber, down the cold halls to their sleeping rooms. Catra hid her scrapes, made sure her pant leg covered her bandages. 

When she cracked the door open, Adora poked her head up from behind the bed. Adora watched her closely, and she tried not to limp as she gathered her clothes. “Where are you going?” Adora asked. 

She ignored her and headed to the door. Adora stood behind her. “Catra!” 

She walked out and down the hall without looking back, as fast as she could, grimacing through the burning in her leg. She turned a corner and opened the door to the second initiates’ bunkroom. 

A group of people playing cards on the floor between bunks all looked up at her. One, a white-haired girl with a scorpion tail, smiled. Catra glared at her and sat down at an empty bunk. She laid back and stared at the stained bottom of the mattress above her. 

If she wasn’t useful to Adora, she was out. It was a constant threat, looming above her. One she’d never tell Adora about. She was there _for_ Adora. 

Her mind screamed at the thought of telling her, of being found out. She would not let Adora down again. 

— 

Bow landed the ship in front of the palace. The sun streamed bright and golden from the clear sky. Catra squinted against it as she stepped out. 

Adora came out behind her. “We’re going to find Glimmer,” she said, smiling. The sun lit up her hair from behind, and the heat put blush on her cheeks. 

Catra stepped away. “I—have to go,” she stammered. 

Adora frowned. “Meet us for dinner?” 

She nodded and turned on her heel, trying not to run. 

When she was inside the castle, she sighed in relief and sagged against a wall. Pain reverberated through her, throbbing and burning, worse than before. She closed her eyes against it, then pushed herself off the wall, dragging her feet down the hall toward her and Adora’s room. 

She slipped inside and came out with a bundle of clothes, to change out of the muddy ones she was wearing. If she could just keep this hidden from Adora long enough for it to heal— 

A guard’s heavy steps echoed from around the corner. Catra sped down the hall, looking for a place to hide that wasn’t their bedroom. She spotted a corner in the hall and turned quickly into a dark doorway, heart pounding. The footsteps came and went. Her head was spinning, and she willed herself not to throw up on the floor of this little forgotten room. 

A weapons closet, she noticed. Her eyes adjusted to the dark. Swords and hammers lined the walls, hanging over shelves of scrap metal and arrows. Judging by the dust coating every surface, no one would be in here for a while. 

Clutching the clothes to her chest, she checked the hall one last time before locking the door. She was trembling head-to-toe, and her skin was starting to get hot. Her knees threatened to give out, so she sank to the floor, trying to breathe through the burning in her side. 

She hoped Glimmer would keep Adora busy long enough. She gathered herself and stood, leaning heavily on the shelves around her. She peeled her dirty clothes off her and let them fall to the ground. The cut was oozing again. It looked—well, it didn’t look very good. The skin around it was red and puffy, and hot to the touch. 

Carefully, she lowered herself to the floor and started poking around the shelves for any bandages or aid supplies. She spotted a white box sitting on the ground and opened it, sighing in relief as she pulled bandages out. 

It was an awkward process—she'd never done it on herself. She’d always had someone, one way or another, to do it for her. 

She tried not to get hurt, in the Horde. She skipped practices she knew would lead to injury, hid cuts and bruises when she could. There was one year a virus swept through the novices’ ranks, leaving most of them bedridden. _It was a weakling’s virus_ , they’d been told. Kyle was in bed for a week. It had been terrifying, more so than leaping canyons at practice, or falling from skiffs in the sky. The thought of being caught vulnerable, of being torn from Adora for it—that was scarier than anything. 

So Catra didn’t get sick, or didn’t get caught. 

She ripped the bandage and dropped the roll inside the box. They were loose around her, and already stained, but they’d do. She eyed the pile of clean clothes she’d taken from their room. 

Her limbs were heavy and weak, and putting them on was a struggle. She was panting by the end of it, dizzy as she leaned against the shelf to catch her breath. Exhaustion settled heavy on her shoulders. Her head burned, but she shivered, sliding to the ground and wrapping her arms around her knees. She closed her eyes, breathing in the smell of the linen and the rust of the swords on the walls. 

She dimly registered her head slumping forward, the fur on her knees tickling her nose, before she dropped into a feverish sleep. 

— 

She woke up so, _so_ much worse. 

Catra peeled her cheek off her knees, trembling uncontrollably, soaked in sweat. She lifted her shirt. The bandages were soaked through, red and yellow and other worrisome colours. 

She stood, swaying and leaning on the shelves. Fear gripped her. She said she’d meet Adora for dinner. The last thing she needed was for her to come looking. 

She kicked the box of medical supplies and her clothes to the side, not finding nearly enough strength to put it away, and hesitantly opened the door, peering down the hall. Clear. 

She stepped out and made her way to the dining room, her hand trailing the wall, and jumped when she heard voices behind her. 

“Catra!” She spun around. Adora came down the hall, Glimmer and Bow in tow, smiling. Catra straightened, endeavoring to maybe not look as terrible and tired as she felt. 

“Dinner?” Adora asked. Catra nodded. Her mouth was dry, her eyes sticky and blurry. She rubbed her face. 

“You okay?” Adora asked as they entered the dining room. Catra nodded again. 

The room spun. The bright chandeliers sent spears of pain through her eyes, the clamour of the dishes rattling her ears. Nausea clawed at her stomach. She dragged one foot in front of her, then the other, avoiding Adora’s searching eyes, trying hard not to keel over. 

Glimmer sat down at the head, Bow at her side, and Adora found a chair next to her. Catra fell into the cushioned seat. 

Spinnerella and Netossa were here, like always. Entrapta sat farther down the table, swaying slightly back and forth in her seat. As soon as Glimmer settled, the guards stepped forward. In her delirium, Catra flinched, still unused to the suddenness with which they appeared in her peripheral vision. 

Entrapta squealed as a cook brought out a steaming dish of miniature cakes. The smell of them clogged Catra’s throat, stuffed her nose. Her breaths came in raggedy and strained. She looked to Adora, laughing beside her. The warm candlelight made her skin glow, and as Catra’s vision greyed at the edges, she was the brightest thing in the room. 

The sounds of dinner dimmed, and her heart beat loud and slow in her ears. Catra sagged against her chair, fighting to stay awake. Her arms were too heavy to lift, her body too heavy to move. Her mind screamed against it, but with one great effort she dragged herself to one side, and let herself fall against Adora. She whispered her name, her throat dry. 

Adora looked down at her, smiling, glowing like a star. She was prettier than a thousand suns. As Catra closed her eyes, she could almost feel the daylight on her face. 

She registered a clamour, and the cool touch of hands on her, lifting her up. Then she was out. 

— 

The feel of Catra’s loose body sagging against hers refused to leave Adora alone. 

She’d been terrified, in the moment. Everyone else had raced to action, but she’d balked. For a minute she hadn’t been in the dining hall, and instead on an eerie green flag ship, touching Catra’s cold skin, carrying her away and begging her to live. 

It was a blur, what happened after. She barely remembered it. Her mind was a haze until Catra was asleep and healing in their room, fever broken. 

She got up and drifted back into the hall, passing Glimmer talking curtly to the guards, into the dining room where Netossa, Spinnerella, and Bow were stacking plates. 

Netossa watched her as she came in. “Adora, you don’t have to help.” 

Spinerella looked up. “Let her, dear,” she said softly. 

Adora gathered the cutlery silently from the floor and put them with the other supplies. She could feel their eyes on her, but she kept her face down, methodically emptying cups and wiping spilled drink off the floor. Soon they had everything neatly on the edge of the table, and the guards started to take it away. 

She didn’t realise Spinnerella had moved until she was at her side, a hand on Adora’s shoulder. “Are you alright?” 

Adora watched her hands, placed lightly on the back of a chair. She nodded, her head dizzyingly light. Worry hung heavy on her shoulders. 

Spinnerella gave her shoulder a squeeze and left with Netossa, the two exchanging a look with Bow. 

She followed him out of the dining room, back down the hall. Glimmer waved the guards off as they came close, and they walked in the room together. She sighed and sat down on the bedside again, watching the floor, not quite hearing what Glimmer and Bow were saying to each other. 

A knock at the door startled her, distracting the oncoming torrent of thoughts. She opened the door to Entrapta, her face smeared with soot, and she juggled various weapons and wrenches in her hair, and in her arms a bundle of clothes, held tight. “I was in the weapons closet,” she said, her eyes already straying into the room, “and I found these.” She held out the clothes. “It’s your red jacket. And Catra’s clothes. I thought you might want them.” 

Adora blinked, then took them carefully. “Thanks Entrapta,” she said. “Where did you find these again?” 

Something on Entrapta’s hip beeped, and she silenced it quickly. “In the weapons closet,” she said, tapping on the screen. 

Adora stared at the clothes in her hands, at the bloody gash in them. Catra’s were covered in dirt. _I’m fine. I fell._ Adora’s jacket was streaked with blood. _Just cold._

Her breaths came in quick, loud in her ears. “Where is the weapons closet?” 

Entrapta looked up. “Oh. It’s down the hall here, then to the left. I don’t usually use it, but I was looking for parts.” 

Glimmer came up behind her. “Thanks, Entrapta,” she said kindly. Entrapta turned on her heel and set off down the hall. Glimmer shut the door. 

“The weapons closet?” Bow said, half to himself. The weapons closet. That’s why she’d run off, why she’d been so distant. Anger built in her chest. 

“She was hiding,” Adora said, walking to a plush settee. She sat down, hard. “From me.” 

Bow watched her, quiet. “She was scared,” he said quietly. 

“She would rather—rather _die_ then change. She’d rather run away to a closet then to just talk to me, or anyone.” 

Bow’s expression hardened, but his tone was soft. “You know that’s not fair.” 

She turned on him, rage and hurt in her voice. “Not fair? It’s true!” 

Bow and Glimmer exchanged a glance. Adora put her head in her hands. “I thought she trusted me.” 

Bow sat down beside her. “She does trust you,” he said, gently. 

"Do you know how many nights I would wait for her to come to my bed?” 

Bow was silent. 

“Whenever she got hurt, she’d look at me with this look of— just _shame._ And then we would finish practice, and Shadow Weaver would drag her off, and I just knew. I’d wait for her all night long, but she’d never come. I didn’t know if she was okay, if she was sick or bleeding out somewhere because she was too scared to come home to me.” She looked up at his face, her vision blurred by tears. “All I ever wanted was to take care of her.” 

He wrapped his arms around her and drew her in tight. She took a breath. She felt his voice rumble in his chest. “She’s going to be alright,” he said. His hands rubbed her back, up and down. “She’ll be okay.” 

— 

Catra woke first to voices. 

She squinted against the morning light streaming into the room from the ceiling-high windows. Her chest was bound tightly, but the pain in her ribs had been reduced to a dull throb. She sat up, head spinning, and looked down. Someone had wrapped her side in white bandages, and changed her into clean, loose clothes. 

Adora was pacing the room, muttering to a tired-looking Bow. He sat on top of a pillow on the floor, Glimmer asleep on his shoulder, murmuring back in a low voice. He spotted her and straightened quickly. 

Adora spun and met her eyes, and shame washed through her at the worry and relief she saw there. She rushed to Catra’s side. Bow touched Glimmer’s face, gently, and she blinked awake. 

“What happened?” Adora asked, quietly. Behind her, Bow helped a groggy Glimmer out of the room. 

Catra’s heart quickened, and she looked around the room, everywhere but Adora. 

“Catra,” she said, in that pleading, breathy way that reminded Catra of all the times she hurt her. 

“I’m sorry, okay? I-” Her voice cracked. 

She was trembling, tears building in the corners of her eyes as it all came back to her. All the pain in Adora’s face was there because of her, all because of the Horde, all because she was too _weak_ to escape the clutches of a woman who was long dead. She’d hurt Adora, again, as she seemed destined forever to do, and it was breaking her. 

Adora reached to touch her shoulder, but she flinched away on instinct. Adora’s hand dropped away and tightened in her lap. 

Guilt was suffocating her, crushing her heart into a bloody pulp. She was such a damned idiot, doing what she did— “I don’t _know,_ okay? _I don’t know,_ it just felt _wrong_ somehow and-” 

“Catra,” she said, in that little desperate way of hers. “I’m not— _mad,_ I'm just—I’m glad you’re okay.” Catra looked up to meet her gaze, her vision blurred by tears. Adora smiled, her voice soft. “I know you trust me.” 

“Stop it!” Catra’s voice broke. “Stop—stop talking to me like that! Stop pretending like I’m not a burden to you, and Glimmer, and everyone else. Stop making it seem like—like I can _give_ something to you, like I’m not just dead weight!” 

Adora’s mouth was halfway open, hurt shining in her eyes. Catra swung her legs off the bed, fighting the pain and nausea that came. She tried to stand, but Adora got up and pushed her back down. “ _Stay right there._ ” 

Catra looked up at her. “I’m not useful to you, Adora.” She looked down. “I’m not worth—keeping around.” 

Adora paused, then kneeled, laying her hands on her knees. “I don’t need you to be useful,” she breathed. “I just need you to be _here._ ” 

The adrenaline keeping the pain and fatigue at bay washed out of her all at once. Her skin was hot and feverish, and her whole body ached. She felt sticky and slow, and ashamed, too. 

She watched Adora’s lovely sky-blue eyes. “I... did that too.” She was looking at her hands. “She really fucked us up, huh?” She laughed dryly. They both knew who she was talking about. Her smile dropped. 

“It took me a long time to unlearn what the Horde taught me.” Her voice was getting harder, her jaw stiffer, the way it did when she talked about _the Horde, the sword, destiny._ “Taught us. Glimmer and Bow helped.” She smiled a little. “They acted like it was obvious, but it wasn’t.” 

Her brow was tight, her shoulders too. She sounded half-finished, but she didn’t say anything more. Catra pulled her legs up against her chest, turning her head away. They stayed there, in silence, the distance between them a broadening chasm. 

After a minute, Adora stood and sat on the bed. She felt Adora’s gaze on her back, heard her hands shuffling on the sheets. She never could stay quite still. 

A tear dropped onto her knees. 

It seemed so easy for her. She’d left the Horde, found real friends, while Catra rotted away in Shadow Weaver’s hands. And then she’d been carried onto Entrapta’s ship, where they welcomed her with open arms, and she’d shied away. Her muddled brain reached for a solution, for a comfort, but all that came up was Adora’s beautiful, hopeful face. 

“It hurts,” she whispered. 

She felt Adora’s hesitantly touch her shoulder. She brushed her thumb gently back and forth. Her hand a steadfast presence, Adora cautiously slid closer, wrapping her arm around Catra’s shoulders, drawing her in close. 

Tears streamed down Catra’s face. Adora’s scent enveloped her, and she closed her eyes, leaning into Adora’s steady touch. She ran her hands up Catra’s neck and through her hair, and Catra leaned farther, pleasure flooding her, melting her sorry heart. 

Adora cupped her face, her fingers gently wiping away her tears, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. 

Once upon a time, Catra would’ve cursed herself for the butterflies that rose up in her chest, for taking in Adora's radiant face, her soft lips and vibrant eyes. Heart beating a little faster, she did what she couldn’t do then; she kissed her, and when she pulled away, there was a blush on Adora’s cheeks. Catra’s thick fatigue was turning to warm sleepiness now, and her eyelids drooped. She laid her head on Adora’s chest. 

Catra’s words were slow when she spoke, fighting the tiredness that had settled over her body. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. She took a slow breath, then looked at Adora’s lovely, hopeful eyes. “I want to learn. And unlearn.” 

All the lingering shame in her washed away, chased off by the tenderness with which Adora took her hand in hers, smiling down at them softly, sending sparks wherever she touched. 

“Promise me we’ll do it together?” 

“Together.” 

A smile grew on Catra’s face. Adora leaned down. She hesitated, just a second, and then touched her forehead to hers. Catra closed her eyes, taking in her sweet smell, savouring the feeling of their hands together, of Adora so close. 

Catra only realised she had fallen asleep when Adora shifted, cupping the back of her head and her waist, and lowered her slowly onto the soft pillows. 

She started to pull away, and Catra blinked her eyes open. She dragged her hand across the bed and reached for Adora’s sleeve, tugging lightly. Adora smiled, her face aflare with morning light, and laid down next to her. Catra reached over and wrapped an arm around her waist, snuggling closer. She laid her head on her chest, tucking perfectly under her chin, as if they were made to fit together, to be so close. 

Adora held her gingerly, afraid to touch the parts of her that still hurt. Strange she didn’t know her touch was the balm that mended them. Catra closed her eyes, and dreamt of sun.


End file.
